Project Hail Mary

by Andy Weir

Only three tubes remain: an IV in my arm, a tube up my butt, and a catheter. Those latter two are kind of the signature items I wanted removed, but okay.

Who am I to question a creepy robot-armed computer overlord? I cautiously lick the substance.

I eat a delicious tube of “Day 4—Meal 2.” I think it’s beef-flavored. The food is getting chunkier now.

I think I have brain damage from that coma.

I have a date with a cylinder.

“You’ve been a bad alien cylinder,” I say to it. “You need a time-out.”

Looks like I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m using “lucky” loosely here. I’m on a suicide mission. So…yeah.

I poke it with various things to get a feel for its hardness. It’s hard.

this is the interstellar equivalent of a stranger offering me candy. I want the candy

He does the jazz hands with two of the hands he’s not using at the moment. I do jazz hands back.

I trudge (can you trudge in zero g? I say yes)

If you looked at a rock for several hours, and someone replaced it with a very similar, but slightly different rock, you would know.

“I am happy. You no die. Let’s save planets!”

Stupid humanity. Getting in the way of my hobbies.

If you take a goat and put it on Mars, what happens? It dies immediately (and horribly). Goats didn’t evolve to live on Mars.

I spend a lot of time un-suiciding this suicide mission.

Your face opening is in sad mode.